"Read that!" gasped the secretary, breathlessly, and he hurried away up a side passageway and out to reach the stairs leading to the press gallery.
Langdon spread the paper before him with difficulty with his trembling hands. Slowly his whirling brain gave him the ability to read. Slowly what appeared to him as a jumbled nothing resolved into orderly lines and words. He read and again stood before the Senate, which had regained its usual composure after the fallen sergeant-at-arms had regained his feet and rubbed his bruises.
"I do not think there will be any investigation," he said, with decided effort, struggling to down the emotion that choked him. "I ask this house to listen to the following letter:
"DEAR SENATOR LANGDON: When you receive this letter I shall be well on my way to take a steamer for Cuba. I write to ask you not to think too harshly of me, for I will always cherish thoughts of the friendship you have shown me.
"Peabody and Stevens have finally proved too much for me. When they got old Telfer to swear to a forged contract and wanted me to forge your name in the land records at Gulf City, I threw up my hands. Their game will always go on, I suppose, but you gave them a shock when you broke up their Altacoola graft scheme. And I'm glad you did They cast me aside to-day, probably thinking they could get me again if they needed me.
"I am going on the sugar plantation of a friend, where I can make a new start and forget that I ever went to Washington."
Langdon paused deliberately. The Senate was hushed. The galleries were stifled. Not even the rustle of a sheet of paper was heard in the reporters' gallery. The Mississippian gazed around the Senate chamber. He saw Stevens and Peabody craning their necks across the aisle and talking excitedly to each other.
Then he stepped forward and spoke, waving the paper in the air.
"This letter is signed 'Charles Norton.'"
The old Southerner gazed triumphantly at the men who had sought to destroy him. It was with difficulty that the presiding officer could hammer down the burst of handclapping that arose from the galleries.